Look at Me
by WaveAfterWave
Summary: AU/AH Damon stands out in everything he does. He's the captain of his high school soccer team and will undoubtedly be recruited to make a professional career out of the game he loves. His striking appearance draws the eyes of many girls, except the only one he actually wants, Bonnie. Will he be able to catch her attention on and off the field with a little help from his friends?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Practice was almost over. He was hot, sweaty, but not uncomfortable; he was well acquainted to this feeling because this was how he felt at every practice, game, workout he had ever been to. This was his normal, something so ingrained in his routine he would miss it if it were taken out. These were some of the only times he was ever really comfortable if he was being perfectly honest.

 _The athleticism had always been there inside Damon Salvatore. Coiled tightly, but dripping obviously off his body everywhere he went, in everything he did. Nothing about him was normal, everything was extreme from his perfect chiseled features: fine bone china skin, jet black hair, blood red lips, piercing blue eyes the color of precious stones; to his supernatural athletic talents and abilities. He was a walking enigma, someone everybody knew, but at the same time, someone nobody knew. He drew in the eyes of everyone who saw him. Something about him shouted to the world, "Look at me!" even though he wished he would just blend in. The eyes were unwelcome, they made him feel like a freak, like an attraction, not a person, not a normal person anyway. You could say he didn't revel in the attention._

When the coaches had dismissed them, he was walking home with his closest friends Klaus and Alaric. They were in a good mood and looking forward to their first game of the season the following day. They had been on the team together as freshmen and now they were the team captains as seniors. "Salvatore, are you coming to the Grille tonight for the team dinner?" It was Klaus, starting an argument.

"Not this time, I wish though. I don't think my dad would be happy about that. You know he's weird like that."

"Dude, you can't miss it. It's the first pre-game dinner of the season, the rest of the team will want to see their captain there. You have to give us a rousing speech."

"The team has three captains, Klaus, and both of you will be there, you give the rousing speeches. And besides," he shrugged, "I don't do rousing."

"Damon, he's right," Alaric interjected, "You're the one they really want to hear from, not us jokers…Coach will miss you." he added. That was probably true. Head soccer coach Joseph Bell doted on Damon, they were extremely close. There wasn't anyone Damon respected more since he had met the coach the first day of tryouts freshmen year.

"I can't make it. End of story."

"Bennet will be there. Over at the girls' table. Don't you want to go so you can see her?" Klaus teased.

"I see her everyday." Damon muttered.

Klaus got excited, smelling blood. "Oh, really? You see her everyday, do you? Because I think tonight might be the prefect opportunity for you to grow a pair and actually _talk_ to her." At this, Damon ducked his head and blushed furiously, while Alaric cracked up beside him.

"I'll ask my dad, but don't expect to see me there." Damon said before he walked up the steps to his house. The two other friends high fived each other in victory.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you for reading, please feel free to review. Enjoy!**

Chapter 2:

Damon lived in one of the largest houses in Mystic Falls, but with only three occupants, it always felt empty. His father was probably still at work and his younger brother Stefan was most likely cooped up in his room. Stefan was an incredibly gifted artist. He would lock himself away for hours at a time and create the most beautifully fascinating images with paints, ink, pencil, or charcoal. Sometimes, Damon was jealous of his brother Stefan. Stefan was insufferably happy and content. He had the perfect grades, perfect manners, perfect girlfriend, and the talents to pursue a hobby actually approved of by their father. Whenever their hotshot businessman father threw dinner parties for his partners and coworkers, St. Stefan was trotted out like a showpiece for Giuseppe to show off while his oldest son was encouraged to stay upstairs or, even better, go to a friend's house for the evening. Despite the brothers' differing interests, they were best friends and trusted confidants to each other. There were no secrets between the young Salvatores. Or at least, previously, there had been no secrets between them.

Things had changed about three months ago, right before summer started, when Damon had been finishing his junior year at Mystic Falls High. Giuseppe was pressing Damon to consider becoming a lawyer or a doctor. He had voiced a desire for Damon to bring honor to the family name by becoming a "well respected professional." Damon had initially been shocked and confused, had his father been listening all the times he talked about going pro? He brought up playing for an Italian club team or a league in Europe. When the elder Salvatore had given him a blank look, he prodded, "Soccer, dad. I want to play soccer. Coach Bell's been telling me I've got a real shot." His father had chuckled a little nervously making some comment about how Damon would eventually have to grow up and couldn't make a proper living galavanting around as a "grass fairy." But later that evening, when Stefan was out of earshot up in his room, Giuseppe summoned Damon to his office. He said words like "respect" and "honor" and "duty" but his eyes and actions that night made him a hypocrite. Men that beat their children had no right to speak about any of those things.

Damon was no weakling. He had been training as a competitive athlete his entire life. But he was a soccer player, not thick and sturdy like a wrestler, not huge like a basketball player or a swimmer. He was the embodiment of speed and agility, grace and finesse. His father threw him around all too easily.

That first time, Giuseppe had been careless, the dark bruises and inflamed cuts a stark contrast to the porcelain skin of Damon's face. At school, the people stared even more than usual. They asked questions. He kept his head down, kept walking, offering half-assed explanations when pressed. None of them true, none of them matching, none that anyone believed. Klaus and Alaric had been furious when they couldn't get a real explanation out of him. The believed a rival player from their nemesis school had done it and wanted revenge. He kept them from acting on that assumption, fortunately, but a rift had appeared in their friendship. It was worse with Stefan. The one person Damon wanted to tell, but the one person he could never tell. Stefan's relationship with their father was actually still intact, and who was Damon to ruin that for him?

Since the first time, Giuseppe had become more crafty. Belts across the back, kicks and punches to Damon's torso, upper arms, the tops of his thighs. Damon had thought the reason for the abuse was his desire to play professionally, but as the weeks went by, he realized his father no longer needed specific reasons. The summer holiday was better because Damon was in Italy at an eight week long skills workshop with players from all over the world. But it only started up again with a vengeance when he returned to Virginia. He didn't know what else to do, so he kept his silence, praying that it would stop, maybe that his father would forget about him…

" _Ave Maria, piena di grazia, il Signore e con te…_ " He would whisper the words at night, "Please…deliver me…per favore." silently crying himself to sleep.

Damon shuddered as he walked through the front door. He no longer felt at home in his own house.

 **Ave Maria, piena di grazia, il Signore e con te = Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee**

 **This is the first part of a Hail Mary, which is a common prayer in the Roman Catholic religion. I have taken the liberty of making Damon Catholic because it is the predominant religion in Italy and hopefully you picked up on his Italian roots (from the books mostly, sorry.)**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

To Damon's surprise, Stefan was actually downstairs in the living room. Damon looked away quickly when he realized what he was witnessing. His younger brother and his girlfriend Elena Gilbert were busy making out while pretending to study. "Get a room, you two!" he protested, joking, "Not on my favorite couch."

"Damon!" squealed Elena. "We didn't hear you come in." Stefan, for his part, looked too mortified to speak. Damon snickered and dropped his school bag in the kitchen and went upstairs to shower and change. By the time he made it back downstairs, Elena had left and Stefan was sitting at the kitchen counter working on his pre-calc homework. Damon made a beeline for the fridge and quickly emptied an entire water bottle and started on a second before he sat down next to his brother, pulling out his own school work. They worked in companionable silence for a while. Stefan doing math, Damon trudging through a chemistry review guide. Stefan was the one to break the silence. "Are you guys ready for the first game tomorrow?" Damon wasn't surprised his brother started the conversation with soccer. It was an acceptable subject for both of them.

"Yeah, we started our preseason earlier than usual this year, and these last few days at practice the team has really been clicking. We have some new blood, but they're all pulling their weight and the veterans have been great getting them used to the varsity level that they should expect tomorrow."

"Nice," said Stefan. "Are you going to tell them that at the team dinner tonight? You know that dad's not coming home until 11 or 12 tonight. Business in Alexandria, he said."

Damon looked at him quizzically. "Wait, wait, wait. How do you even know about the game tomorrow and the dinner tonight?" Damon was sure he hadn't said anything, even though six moths ago he would have told his brother everything.

Stefan shrugged. "I've been hanging out with Elena at school more. She's friends with Bonnie and Caroline. They're both on varsity this year and they mentioned the game and dinner." He paused, and quieter, said, "Damon, why do I hear about these things from girls at my lunch table? You used to tell me about your games weeks in advance so you were sure I would go. Do you not want me to be there tomorrow?" Now he looked downright hurt.

Damon shifted uncomfortably on the stool. Of course he wanted Stefan there. He always loved hearing his brother yelling and shouting his name at the games and hugging him tightly afterwards. While Giuseppe hadn't been to one of Damon's games since their mother died, Stefan would go to as many as he could to support his big brother. But Giuseppe had made it clear how he felt about the soccer games, Damon just didn't want his brother on their father's bad side. He knew better than anyone how dangerous that could be.

"Aren't you watching the girls' game with Elena? I wouldn't want you to have to stick around for ours as well." The girls always went first, at 4, and the boys at 6. The part about not wanting Stefan to stay so long after school was partly true, although last year he had asked Stefan to be there at the mens' games too.

"I wouldn't mind." Stefan said. Now Damon saw it was clear that his brother was waiting expectantly for Damon to ask him. Stefan wanted Damon to want him to come.

"I can't say no to another familiar face in the crowd." It was harder for Damon to say those words than he would have thought. Maybe it was the stinging in his eyes? Stefan beamed at him.

Damon had made up his mind to go to the dinner since his father wouldn't be an issue. He worked like a man possessed to finish his chemistry and get ahead in reading for his literature class. Then he made sure Stefan would be able to find food for the night and went to think about the rousing speech his friends on the team would no doubt be expecting. The thing was, he had been telling the truth. He wasn't good at rousing. He was a man of actions, not words. Words were hard for him, they never came out right. Coach, though. There was a man who could do words. Everything he said was an inspiration, that guy could inspire a pile of bricks. Maybe Damon would let him do the heavy lifting in the rousing speech department tonight.

There was another thing on his mind about the dinner. A very snarky, very fierce, very cute thing. And that of course would be the junior rocking the womens' varsity soccer team, the one and only Bonnie Bennet. Damon couldn't believe that his brother had been sitting at the same lunch table as this girl. He saw her everyday, but only once school had ended and all the sports practices started. He saw her in passing and since both varsity soccer teams used the same large practice field he passed by her a lot. But Klaus had been right. He had never spoken one word to the girl. Something about her was extremely intimidating to Damon. He got the vibe that he didn't want to mess with this girl, and it was _embarrassing_. He was a senior for crying out loud and a rockstar on the soccer field. His friends teased him to no end. Apparently, his obsession was painfully obvious to everyone except Bonnie. He doubted that tonight would change anything between them, if he was being honest. He just didn't see himself actually summoning the courage (or maybe, the cojones) to speak to her.

Klaus and Alaric showed up at the Salvatore house to bodily drag their friend and fellow team captain to the dinner, but were surprised to be met with no resistance. Damon called goodbye to Stefan and cheerily walked out the door, turning around to see if they were following. "What?" he said incredulously. "Nothing." they said, looking at each other and leading the way to the restaurant.

All the players enjoyed themselves immensely. The food was Italian, and good. Coach Bell delivered, with an extremely rousing speech that Damon, Alaric, and Klaus stood and applauded obnoxiously while the rest of the team cheered. At one point, Damon made eye contact with Bonnie across the tables and before he looked away, he found he was smiling despite himself. Bonnie, for her part, thought that her heart had stopped. Had the icy and aloof senior soccer captain Damon Salvatore just smiled at her? It was a breathtaking smile, she had to admit. More like a smirk really, but it had her reeling for the rest of the night.

When it was time to leave, Damon and his friends found themselves walking in the same direction as Bonnie and Caroline. Caroline was the first to notice and grabbed her friend's arm to slow down and let the three boys catch up. "Damon, Stefan wants all of us to stay after our game and watch you play tomorrow! Isn't that so sweet?" she gushed. Damon flushed as Bonnie's head whipped around.

"I told him he didn't have come tomorrow." he mumbled.

"I think its adorable that he wants to come to his big brother's first game of the year." Bonnie suddenly broke her silence. She was obviously being sarcastic, though. Damon reddened further.

"Oh, nice! You guys are coming to our game?" Klaus was looking at Caroline. "It's going to be awesome when we win!" he waggled his eyebrows.

"Cocky, much?" Bonnie raised one brow.

"Well, I guess we'll just see about that, won't we?" Alaric butted in. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have beauty sleep to be getting." The girls laughed and continued walking toward their own houses, calling goodbyes over their shoulders. Klaus passed the walkway up to the Salvatore house and turned back to see Damon stop short and Alaric run into his back, sputtering as he caught his balance. Damon froze in terror when he saw his father's Charger in the driveway. _He was't supposed to be back until 11 or 12_ , he thought. _Had Stefan set him up? Why was he home? He was going to be in so much trouble._ Alaric's voice brought him back to earth. 

"Whoa… you good, man?"

Damon forced a breathy laugh out. "Yeah, fine. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Take it easy." He still wouldn't meet their eyes as he headed inside.

His teammates felt something was wrong with their closest friend, but they waited until he closed the door and then proceeded to their own houses wondering all the way.

The inside of the house was silent, not a good sign. Damon was hoping Stefan would still be awake, then maybe he would have the opportunity to get to his room before his father could call him to the office for the inevitable melt down. He made a point to be silent as he locked the front door and snuck towards the stairs. He had his foot on the first stair and was about to sprint up them, when a heavy hand clamped around his forearm. He didn't look at his father, keeping his eyes on the stairs. "I was with the team at a school sponsored dinner. I have a game tomorrow, dad." he whispered, trying to free his arm. Sometimes that was enough to make his father to reconsider. Damon winced as the pressure on his arm increased. That was going to leave a bruise. "Later, then." Giuseppe promised menacingly. "You know the rules, boy."

The tears didn't come until he saw Stefan's closed door. Damon wanted to go inside, confide in his brother and let all the weight of the past six months off his chest. But like usual, he went straight to his room, his lonely sanctuary, and kept it inside.

 **Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I really appreciate everyone who has been reading and reviewing this story, please enjoy.**

Chapter 4:

Damon woke up with the thought of the day's game on his mind. He threw on shorts and a shirt, stuffing his feet into his running shoes as he closed the front door behind him. It was still dark, but the sun was peeking over the far edge of town when he set off at a brisk jog. On a normal day, he would put in six miles before school, but on game days he cut back to three. The run wouldn't take him long, less than half an hour. The early September air was cool against his now warm skin. He was in surprisingly high spirits in anticipation for the game. They were playing St. Charles, a pushover team, the victory would most likely come easily although it had been almost a year since the last time they played each other. And if he would admit it to himself, he was giddy and excited at the thought of Stefan and Bonnie coming to the game. He felt a sense of pride in his team, maybe it was because he was a captain or because he had been playing on varsity with Coach Bell since his freshmen year, but he found himself excited to show off the team's skills.

He slowed to a walk as he made his way up the steps to his house, still taking slow, deep breaths after the morning run. He stretched out in the front yard and then moved on to a few easy push ups, sit ups, and lunges. He wasn't going to push it today, saving it for the game. He had more time than usual before he had to get in the shower, so he found himself messing around with one of his many beat up old soccer balls. He took it past imaginary defenders, pulling tricks, played around with trying to figure out a rainbow kick, but gave up, and then found himself juggling the ball on the tops of his feet, then the tops of his thighs. He could keep it off the ground forever when he was concentrating and he inevitably lost track of time and had to stuff his gear away and sprint to the shower to make up the time. Stefan saw him running to the bathroom without a shirt and raised an eyebrow at his older brother's antics, passing it off as game day craziness. Stefan heard their father call out to tell them he was leaving and was about to shut the door when Stefan wedged himself in the way.

"Dad, Damon's first game of senior year is tonight and it's a home game. You should come, you can sit with us." Stefan started. He frowned as his father's surprised look hardened.

"I'm working late tonight, son. Your brother's a big boy now, doesn't need his old man at every game." It was gruff, like he didn't want to go, but didn't want to disappoint the favorite son.

"Mom would've gone." he whispered.

Giuseppe's eyes were filled with hurt as he looked directly at Stefan. "I'll see you afterwards. I'll cook dinner, okay?" Stefan just nodded.

…

Damon was walking out of the bathroom in a towel five minutes later and ran right into Stefan.

"Watch it," he growled affectionately. He was still in a good mood. Stefan put on his broody face.

"What's that on your arm?" Damon looked down and frowned, pushing his still wet midnight hair off his forehead. It was, in fact, a bruise; blue-black and fresh. Giuseppe had left an obvious handprint, each finger separate on the milk white skin right below his elbow.

"War wound, brother. I was wrestling with Ric at practice. He got his huge keeper's hands around me. Not to worry, I asserted my dominance in the end." he lied jokingly. He hated lying to Stefan, but now he was thinking what he could wear to cover it during the school day. He wouldn't be able to cover it at the game, the kits were short sleeved and it was much too warm to wear something underneath if he didn't want to overheat.

"Does it hurt?" Stefan questioned.

Damon looked uneasily at his brother. How did he tell him that he was used to much worse than this, that this was nothing, he hadn't even noticed until Stefan had said something?

"Nope." he answered, ruffling Stefan's hair. "Didn't even remember it was there. Makes me look like a badass though, huh?" he said casually, flexing his arms, waggling his eyebrows, and smirking wickedly before heading to his room to get dressed. Stefan rolled his eyes and accepted his brother's answers without question.

…

The school day passed quickly and without incident. He had a few classes with Klaus and Alaric, who were also bouncing off the walls with excitement. The teachers had to yell at them multiple times to settle down. When Damon saw Bonnie ahead in the hall, he almost ducked his head, but then, she was smiling at him and he looked right back at her, smiling and said, "Go get 'em tonight, Bennet!" "I'll do that, Salvatore." she shot back, heading to class.

Several periods later, Klaus was in the cafeteria chatting up Caroline, when he noticed Damon walking toward them with Caroline's friend Bonnie. They both sat down at the table and pulled out their lunches. They were arguing. "Messi is way better than Neymar." Damon asserted. 'Oh, come on! You're just too blinded by Messi's good looks to pay attention to Neymar's obvious skills." Bonnie countered. Damon looked at her with his mouth open in disbelief, then pressed on, "I think you're the one who is blinded by a certain Brazilian's good looks. If you could see anything through your ga-ga eyes, you would see that Neymar just flits around the field supporting Messi and then, occasionally, he throws himself to the ground to get the refs to give him the other team a foul." Bonnie put on her best pretend mad face. "I don't think we can be friends anymore." she spat. Damon hadn't caught on to her joking, however, and real confusion and hurt flashed across his face as he looked away. Bonnie immediately started cracking up and then Damon flushed when he realized he'd been played and he swatted at her. Klaus and Caroline took in the scene with interest as Stefan, Elena, and Alaric joined them. The whole table enjoyed a raucous and goofy lunch with the five varsity athletes who were all so hyper Stefan and Elena could feel their energy coming off them in waves. When the bell rang, they went their separate ways reluctantly.

Elena and Caroline cornered Bonnie in the hall. "Omigosh, Bonnie, Damon is so into you! When did you guys become besties?" Elena squealed.

"What? No! Why would he be interested in me? I'm only a junior and he's a senior and like a soccer god and he's so hot…" she started babbling and her friends looked pointedly at her.

"Bonnie Bennet! He would be the one lucky to have _you_. You are an amazing athlete, you're smart, hilarious, and so kind and sweet." Caroline reprimanded her.

"So, do you like him?" Elena pressed.

"I barely know anything about him." Bonnie protested. "Nobody does, he's usually so quiet and aloof. I can't believe he and Stefan are related."

"Well we know that he prefers Messi to Neymar." Caroline pitched in. "Idiot." she muttered under her breath.

The girls laughed and agreed to do some more reconnaissance at the game before taking their seats.

…..

The entire men's team was outfitted in their gear and stuffed in the locker room. Damon was wrapping the laces around his cleats in his weird, superstitious way, Alaric was doing pull ups using a bar in a doorframe, and Klaus, the yoga freak, was sitting in a full lotus pose with his hands in the gyan mudra resting on his knees, eyes closed. Their coach herded them out of the locker room and let the captains warm them up. As Stefan and Elena watched, they were joined by Bonnie and Caroline, who had just gotten back from the showers after their own victory minutes earlier. "Congrats, you guys!" Stefan gave them a genuine smile and made room for the two girls on the bleachers. They kept up an easy conversation as both teams arranged themselves for kickoff on the field below.

Damon and Alaric went to the coin toss, which St. Charles won and requested to have first possession. Damon stayed up near the top of their half since he was a forward striker, while Alaric jogged back to his spot in the goal. Klaus was a middie along with Elena's younger brother Jeremy and two others. There were three defenders, four halfbacks, three forwards, and one goalkeeper. Damon was the center forward, the literal spearhead of the team. Klaus was the inside left midfielder, Jeremy the outside right. Every one of the twenty two men took their positions and the game began with St. Charles trying to make a fast break to the side of the field and take it toward the home goal. Mystic Falls sprung into action to prevent it and Damon received the ball from his left forward and quickly deposited it onto his right forward, sensing pressure from the other team. Before he knew what was happening, Damon found himself on the ground and to his rage and indignation, an opposing player stepped on his leg while he was tangled on the ground. Klaus saw the whole thing even if the ref didn't and pulled his friend to his feet with a quick, "You good, mate?" Damon nodded and trotted off, back into the fray. It was literally less than a minute into the game. If they were going to play this dirty the whole time, it was going to be a long night for the entire team.

…

Stefan and the three girls cheered when their home team gained possession and Damon and the other players pressed up closer to the opponent's goal. There were about fifteen minutes left in the second half and so far Mystic Falls was holding their own, they were up 2-1. The crowd watching knew their beloved team was taking a beating and the referees were turning a blind eye toward St. Charles' violence. Stefan was anxious to notice that Damon seemed to be taking the worst of it. Even the girls noticed too, wincing every time a St. Charles player got too close to his brother. He was probably the most valuable player, which made him a target. He was beginning to look tired, Stefan thought. Dirt, grass, and blood stained his jersey from 75 minutes of abuse on the field. Damon had probably spent more time on the ground than on his feet and each time he was knocked down, it took longer for him to get back up. Mystic Falls seemed to be implementing plan 'keep the ball away from Damon, maybe that way they'll leave him alone.' It wasn't working.

Damon could sense his team getting rattled by the jokers from St. Charles. Mystic Falls was obviously the better team, but they were barely hanging on to their lead. The more they pushed Damon around, the angrier his team would get, letting the enemy get away with precious yards of field closer and closer to their goal. St. Charles was definitely dominating the mental part of the game right now, and Damon had to find a way to get it back. His team couldn't take much more. _He_ couldn't take much more. He watched as one of his defenders cleared the ball from their box, passing it to Jeremy. Damon sprinted upfield, calling for the ball. Jeremy passed it cleanly and Damon only took one touch to pass it over to his left forward Tyler. Tyler ran it up the left side and crossed it into the box at the exact right spot where Damon was running to bury it in the back of the net. As soon as his cleat met the ball he knew it was a good strike. He smirked with satisfaction as the keeper dove the wrong way and the ball made contact with the net. Damon, Tyler, and the other Mystic Falls players sprinted out of the enemy's box before an altercation could occur. The teammates slapped backs all the way back to their positions as they lined up and waited for St. Charles to return to their places. Damon turned his head to the stands and saw his brother jumping up and down yelling and cheering obnoxiously; he couldn't help it, the sight made his eyes water with laughter as he gasped for breath, smiling like an idiot. He also couldn't fight the butterflies in his stomach when he met Bonnie's eyes in the bleachers as she waved at him. He flashed her his signature smirk.

The sudden goal had lifted the team morale and they really found their stride, keeping possession and keeping St. Charles out of their half of the field in the last ten minutes of the game. St. Charles was furious with the turn of events, no doubt they thought they could make a come back before the end of the game. Mystic Falls was getting in place for a corner kick in St. Charles' goal box when Damon felt a shoulder nudge him none too gently. "Chill," he glared at the offending player, who was looking innocently away. Matt was lining up to take the kick. Damon was at the far post, Tyler at the near post, and Klaus in the center of the box. The ref gave Matt the signal and Matt put it toward the middle. Tyler ran to volley it to Klaus, who took it straight to the far corner of the goal.

…

While all the players' and spectators' attention was on the ball, one St. Charles player had his attention on one Damon Salvatore. He was still mad about Damon's two goals. As soon as the ball was put into play, he grabbed the striker's head and rammed it into the goalpost he had been standing by. Damon grunted in surprise, but as he crumpled to the ground with a large gash on his head bleeding profusely, no one noticed and the play continued, resulting in Klaus scoring the fourth goal for Mystic Falls.

…

Klaus was surrounded by his teammates who were congratulating him on his shot. He kept expecting to see Damon's face pushing through the rest of the others to jump on him and start a dog pile with Klaus at the bottom, but he couldn't see his best friend anywhere. They were all running back to their starting positions (except of course, Damon) when they heard the collective gasp from the stands. They turned back to see what the commotion was and they were met with the sight of their captain's body lying facedown on the grass right next to St. Charles' goal.

Stefan was on his feet in the bleachers. His big brother was lying motionless on the field. He wanted to run to him, but found he couldn't. He was frozen to the spot as Elena's hand found his. Stefan heard her trying to talk to him, but he was only paying attention to Damon. Even Bonnie and Caroline were on their feet with worry for the senior they had just met last night. Stefan wished his father was here like he had asked him to be. Stefan still trusted and looked up to Giuseppe and he was under the impression Damon did too.

Everyone on the team was taut with concern as they kneeled on the pitch and watched the referees and coaches and trainers gather around Damon, who still hadn't moved. Coach Bell stood back as the trainers quickly knelt down and searched for the teenager's pulse in his carotid artery. Once they confirmed he was breathing and had a pulse, they ever so gently turned his player over and he felt a wave a fury crash over him at what they found. Damon was still dead to the world, but they now knew why. The gash above his left eyebrow was steadily seeping blood, which had already covered a good part of his face and jersey, the white skin was a stark contrast to the brilliantly colored liquid he was loosing quickly.

Klaus could see the blood even from where he was, half a field away from his best friend, and he felt terrible that he hadn't even noticed Damon lying there while he was celebrating his goal. He also knew that that much blood wasn't drawn by accident. Klaus looked back at Alaric, who looked like he wanted to punch something. Actually, that was how the whole team looked. All the guys adored Damon, not that they would phrase it that way, but he was respected and liked by everyone and they were outraged someone had dared to hurt him. Damon was theirs.

Bonnie covered her mouth as she watched the men turn Damon over after checking for his pulse. He was absolutely covered in blood. She felt Stefan stiffen beside her as he took in the sight of his brother's pitch black hair and bright red blood against his face, which was as white as paper. The trainers moved to pick Damon up, but the coach shooed them away, moving his arms under the 17 year old's shoulders and knees, and lifting all 160 ponds of his 6'1" frame like he weighed nothing. Damon was still unconscious, but the crowd in the stands clapped like he could hear them out of respect. The coach carried him off the field to the waiting ambulance as the referees started the last five minutes of playing time in the game. All of the team looked stricken as the ambulance with their friend and captain pulled away, but they didn't allow St. Charles any more goals and the game ended 4-1, Mystic Falls.

…

 **Is this a good length chapter for you guys? Would you prefer shorter? Longer?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you to the loyal reviewers, it means so much to me. I would like to take a brief interlude from Damon's point of view to give a short glimpse of the story from Giuseppe's point of view. Rewind yourselves back to the beginning of game day. :) Enjoy!**

Chapter 5:

Giuseppe was in the middle of walking out his front door to go to work when his younger son blocked his path.

"Dad, Damon's first game of senior year is tonight and it's a home game. You should come, you can sit with us." Stefan blurted out, taking him by surprise. He hadn't been to one of his elder son's soccer games since their mother was alive. Since before Damon started high school. It had been a little more than three years. He wasn't even aware there was a game at the high school tonight. But hadn't Damon said something about that last night when he caught him sneaking in? He masked his rush of emotions with a glare.

"I'm working late tonight, son. Your brother's a big boy now, doesn't need his old man at every game." It was an apology - in fact, the best Giuseppe could offer - but he wondered if Stefan could tell. He couldn't voice to his youngest how he couldn't go to the game, how that experience would be too painful. It would bring memories of her, of him when he was his son's age. And it wasn't like Damon would want him anywhere near the pitch anyway, although he suspected Stefan wouldn't know that.

"Mom would've gone." the younger boy whispered.

And that just did it.

Giuseppe felt his chest constrict. It was hard to breathe when the waves of guilt and sadness crashed over him. Of course she would've. No question about it. The sky would've fallen before she missed one of her baby's games. He didn't need his youngest son to tell him what a terrible father he was. He knew it. He knew he had failed both his sons in more ways than anyone could count, by being closed off, distant, a downright danger to his eldest's health since their mother's passing. In many ways, Giuseppe had become all that he'd resented in his youth, everything he despised. Who had ever heard of such a coward and a monster as the man that could hurt his own son? But he felt he was too far down that road. He desperately wanted to return to the road where he was a good father to his sons, the strongest ties to her he had left. But how? He wanted back to the life they had had before, the one where he attended each and every one of Damon's games, finger painted with Stefan for hours on end, and played with his boys in the yard until he had to carry them both inside from exhaustion.

But the things he had done to Damon while he was caught in the rage of his grief were unforgivable. How could he ever be worthy of redemption for those sins? His own flesh and blood was afraid to be in the same room as him and it was a miracle Stefan didn't suspect anything or surely he would hate him too.

"I'll see you afterwards. I'll cook dinner, okay?" he asked in a choked voice. It was a weak attempt to alleviate his guilt. Could he atone for three years with one meal? He knew the answer to that.

…

Giuseppe had been born in Italy. In Milan. He and his brothers had fallen in love with the game of soccer before they could walk, thanks to their father and his father. Even after they had moved to America, they retained their Italian gusto for the sport, keeping up with their home club team, AC Milan. All the Salvatore boys played throughout their school years and with each other at home, but Giuseppe was the best. He had the sharpest reflexes, the nimblest feet, the lightning speed. He had _instincts_ and everyone could see it. After high school he was invited to go out for a few minor leagues in America, but he went back to Italy with his eyes on the AC. He preferred Milan, but AS Roma wouldn't be terrible. He was on AC Milan's roster eight months later, their starting forward only a little after a year. His glory years. Giuseppe lived in a stylish apartment in the city, he met the love of his life, and he was being handsomely paid to do the thing he loved and was good at. He looked good in the red and black uniform with SALVATORE printed across the back and his 'lucky' number 13 underneath. The fans knew his name and his face, and adored him, but it was only a brief stint in the spotlight.

He played professionally for the association only five years, a short, yet full career. It came to a sudden and unexpected end, when he was injured in a game against their biggest rival, Inter.

Giuseppe mourned the loss of his career as an athlete for a short while, but he was ready to settle down anyway, and when his family called him to come home, he brought his Italian girlfriend with him and made her his fiancé, then his wife. She was a painter and musician with an affinity for watching soccer. Her midnight black hair and stunning blue eyes that he swore he could see her soul through were what originally drew the young Giuseppe in, but her warmth, wit, and kindness made him stay. She would sing for him and play the piano for him, just because she was good at it and she wanted to share it with him. She sketched and painted him from every angle imaginable. He loved her more than he thought possible. More than soccer, more than his life itself. And she loved him, too.

In America, they had two beautiful, perfect sons. The older looked just like his mother, the younger, like his father. And they took after their parents in more ways than just looks. Their lovely mother introduced the dark haired one to soccer and the brown haired one to art. Soccer was still a tad painful for Giuseppe, but his son loved it, so he played with him, showing him tricks and skills patiently and to his delight, the boy was a natural. They could tell Stefan was an artist from the moment they saw his stick figure drawing of 'Damon and Daddy playing soccer.' They could also tell how much he loved his older brother.

Giuseppe went into the corporate world, letting his past as a professional athlete slip away, but she continued her art from home, selling a few pieces a month. Their life was charmed. They realized it, but only in fleeting moments of d _amn, we're the luckiest parents on earth._ Then one of the boys would knock something over for the umpteenth time and they would forget about that moment until the next moment, becoming distracted in the way that most people become distracted by life. Each night, they would tuck the boys into their beds. Sometimes she would sing, sometimes he would lovingly run his hands through the soft hair, sometimes they sat completely silent until they heard the breaths become slow and regular, then they would kiss the precious head and sneak out back to their own room for the night. Too caught up in their bliss to even consider that it could end, that it could be snatched away from them in an instant. But who imagines a bitter future when the present is so sweet?

…

Their mother was dead.

And only three years after her death, their charmed life lay in ruins.

…

He was bustling around the kitchen cooking, like he'd promised Stefan, when he got the call.

It was Esther Mikaelson. She had heard from Klaus, so all she knew was what Klaus knew. In a daze, he heard _his head, ambulance, a lot of blood, unconscious, hospital, concussion_. Giuseppe felt his own blood run cold. He somehow scraped up a thank you to Esther and managed to remember to turn off each stove burner he had been using, before shaking hands grabbed his keys and wallet and he sprinted out to his car, the meal in progress forgotten.

It was every father's worst nightmare. Even the bad fathers, like Giuseppe. He drove recklessly to the hospital, chanting Hail Marys in Italian the whole way and angrily scrubbing at the tears that escaped his eyes. _Ave Maria…_ The same way Damon would fervently whisper the same words at night, although he would never have known that.

He cursed himself for not being there, as if his mere presence would have prevented it. He cursed the coach, as if he wouldn't have stopped it if he could've. He cursed his son and his mother for their idiotic love of that game, but he knew Damon wouldn't live his life any other way. Soccer was what he did, there was no question he was good at it. Giuseppe hadn't seen him play for three years, but he remembered, and he heard enough of the murmurs about Damon as the moms in his office gossiped. The kid was like his father in that way, he supposed. And now the thought of seventeen year old Damon being unable to play for some reason was making his eyes swim with moisture.

His brain suddenly went into 'worst case scenario' mode. His son could actually be dead right now, and he wouldn't even know. What Esther had told him on the phone was vague enough to mean it was just a scrape or it was life threatening. If his son had died at the game today, the last time he would've seen Damon alive would've been when he was struggling to get his arm out of his grip on the stairs last night.

 _I'm going to change_ , he thought. _Right now. I'll never lay my hands on either of those boys in anger ever again. I will become the father they deserve, the father their mother would be proud of. Just please…please, please, please. Let him be okay. Per favore…_

He was just overreacting, that's all. Damon was fine. He had to be. Right? And Stefan. Oh, God, Stefan. He was probably freaking out. That boy had more compassion in him than a saint, especially when it came to his older brother. Giuseppe drove faster, screeching into the parking lot and haphazardly maneuvering into a space before leaping out of the vehicle and running up to the building, still muttering the familiar Italian words of the prayer. All he really had at the end of the day were those two boys. It was just the three of them, they needed him and he needed them. In that moment, as he burst through the doors to the Emergency Room, he made a decision not to fail either of them or their mother ever again.

…

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	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for reviewing! Now, on with the show.**

Chapter 6:

The small waiting room outside the ER was full of people. Players from the varsity and junior varsity teams were there, many players hadn't even bothered to shower. Boys and girls, all the coaching staff, and some school administrators were gathered together in the small room that had quickly become standing room only. Most of them waiting for information on the same person. Damon. Elena, Caroline, and Bonnie kept close to Stefan, who was still trying to get ahold of Giuseppe. Alaric and Klaus were twitching impatiently, unable to sit still. Their head coach was with Damon somewhere in the depths of the Emergency Room. The only information they had was that he was getting stitches to close the cut on his head and was being checked for a concussion. Just then the doors to the waiting room opened and Giuseppe Salvatore walked in, three piece suit and jacket still pristine even though it was about nine by then. He went straight to Stefan, slightly confused by the volumes of people standing around. Stefan launched himself into his father and hugging him as he closed his eyes tightly. "Where have you been? I've called you twenty times!" Giuseppe looked down flabbergasted at his younger son, suddenly feeling a pang of fear for his eldest. He still had no idea what had happened, but he was guessing it wasn't a scraped knee as he recognized more of the people in the waiting room from Damon's team. Just then, Coach Bell walked into the room and everyone jumped to their feet and swarmed him. He held up a hand to quiet them.

"Nothing's broken, no concussion." he said. "He'll even be able to play the next home game." The entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief and people started hugging each other, some getting ready to leave now that it was apparent that Damon was fine. The head coach walked up to where Giuseppe was standing with Stefan still at his side and said, "He's asking for you." He looked straight at Stefan as he said the words. As he led Damon's family to the bed he was in, he turned to the patriarch and said conversationally, "I'm assuming you're his father. We haven't met, I'm Coach Bell." What he left out was the part where he asked the man why he had been coaching his son for three years straight without ever seeing the boy's father at a game.

"Thanks for looking after him until I got here." Giuseppe seemed to either feel no guilt or was hiding it very well as he shook the man's hand. "What happened?" he was curious.

"One of the geniuses on the other team took it upon himself to make sure your boy would be out of commission for the rest of the game. Smashed his pretty little head into the goalpost when no one was looking." They came to the bed Damon was occupying. He was strikingly pale, even more so than usual and there was a gauze bandage taped to his forehead covering the five sutures that were holding the skin together. If his appearance could only be described in one word, it was fragile. Damon freaking Salvatore, badass soccer player, looked fragile in that moment. He was half sitting, half lying in the small stretcher bed, still wearing his varsity uniform and he was covered in dirt and grass stains like he had been rolling around on the ground instead of running on it. Various other small cuts and bruises marred his skin as a result of the melee that was high school soccer. There was an IV tube taped to the back of his right hand and a pouch hanging above his head was dripping a clear fluid into the tube. His left eye had a dark bruise beneath it, but he smiled lopsidedly and reached for his brother as soon as he saw him. Giuseppe cringed when he saw the handprint on his son's dirty forearm that was wrapped around Stefan. Had he really been that rough last night? The boy looked so young at the moment, he felt a tidal wave of remorse for his actions.

Giuseppe turned to thank the coach again, but he must have left. Just then, a young doctor pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the snug room, pulling it shut behind her. "Hello, I'm Dr. Fell. I was in here earlier suturing your son's head!" she chirped brightly. "Damon's scans are all clean so there is no need to worry about a concussion. He's on fluids to make up for the blood he's lost and antibiotics to prevent any infection. He can eat and drink normally as soon as he goes home." She said this all quickly as she approached Damon and shined a pen light in his eyes, then looked at the monitor that was displaying his vitals. She turned toward Giuseppe. "Mr. Salvatore, tonight when you take him home, keep and eye on him for anything out of the ordinary. If he becomes confused, disoriented, loses his balance, is feeling nauseous, or develops a fever bring him straight back here. Keep him in bed or on the couch for the rest of the weekend, and make sure he's feeling well enough to go to school on Monday. It not, just let him rest. I don't think he needs prescription medication for the pain, just use something over the counter like acetaminophen or ibuprofen. Try not to get those stitches too wet, you have an appointment to get them out in two weeks. Any questions?"

"When can I go to practice and games? Can I workout normally?" Damon was quick to ask.

"Let's say practices a week from today. Next Friday, how about? Your coach told me he'd be benching you for the next game and reevaluating for the game after that. As for your personal workouts, take the weekend off and make sure you ease back into it."

Damon frowned but his father interrupted, "That sounds like a good plan, Doctor. I'll make sure he doesn't push it." Both brothers stared at their father with their mouths open. Giuseppe was so uninvolved in their lives Stefan wondered if he could tell you what time their high school started and ended. And now he wanted to help take care of Damon?

"Very good, Mr. Salvatore. You're free to go as soon as he finishes the course of the fluids. Get lots of rest, your team needs you back." she said the last part to Damon and left the room. Stefan looked up at the bag, there was only a little bit left now. He turned to his father. "Dad, if people want to come visit Damon tonight, what should I say?"

Giuseppe looked at Stefan, than Damon. "Damon?"

"Maybe tomorrow, Stef. I'm kind of tired and it's late. They should be celebrating our win, not sitting around in the hospital." Damon lifted the hand with the IV in it and rubbed the good side of his face. He did look tired, actually. Stefan left to go tell the stragglers still in the waiting room, leaving his brother alone with their father.

Damon laid back and closed his eyes. He was vaguely paying attention as he heard the rustling movement of his father moving to stand right next to the bed. Giuseppe started moving his hand through Damon's dirty hair. Damon was a little confused, but it felt good, so he didn't protest. He opened his eyes a crack to see his father looking at him with concern and he stopped abruptly. "Am I hurting you?"

 _Not like you usually hurt me._ "No, it's fine." Damon replied, still unsure why his father was acting like this, like he cared. His father's hand started moving again, featherlight in his hair, avoiding the gauze.

…

When Stefan walked into the waiting room, only Klaus, Alaric, Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline were still there. They all perked up when he got to them. "He's fine, just a huge lump on his head." Stefan joked, trying to lighten the mood. "He said he wants you guys celebrating the win right now. But all of you are more than welcome to come over and do nothing with him tomorrow." Klaus and Alaric begged to come camp out in the Salvatores' living room, but Stefan told them Damon was wiped out, he wouldn't notice either way. So they went home, promising to be knocking on the door bright and early the next morning.

Stefan returned to Damon's bed in time to see a nurse removing the IV line from his hand and putting another bandage on. His father was standing stoically in the corner of the small room. Somehow, Damon's bags from school had made it to the floor of the room, probably the coach, Stefan thought and he gathered them up and Damon got out of the bed shakily and both Giuseppe and Stefan watched him like hawks as he took tentatives steps out of the ER. He seemed to be steady on his feet, but slower than usual. When they got to the parking lot, Giuseppe gently placed his hand on Damon's back and guided him to the black Dodge Charger and took his sons home.

When the three of them walked in, Stefan and Damon noticed the kitchen in a state of disarray. There were pots, utensils, everything necessary to cook a meal strewn all over the kitchen. Giuseppe gestured towards the mess and shrugged. "I was in the middle of cooking dinner when I heard. Had to leave in a hurry. You guys hungry?"

The brothers looked at each other. "Yeah, actually." said Stefan looking at the clock. It was ten thirty, sometimes not an unusual dinnertime in their house. Damon just shook his head and said, "I'm going to go try to shower." He was still in the clothes he had been wearing at the game and he just felt like cleaning up and then collapsing into his king sized bed.

"Eat first, Damon." his father insisted and he didn't have the motivation to argue as he plopped down at the table. Their father put warmed up leftovers in front of them and Stefan ate enthusiastically, while Damon picked at his. He was looking a little worse for wear, pale and drooping with exhaustion. Giuseppe nodded for Stefan to get him cleaned and in bed and proceeded to clean the disaster area that was the kitchen.

Damon had showered by himself, happy to wash off the day, but finding it tricky to wash his hair without getting the bandage wet. He pulled on his pajama pants and did his best to dry his hair with the towel. Stefan was lurking outside as he emerged, still without a shirt and his younger brother caught sight of the bruises all over his chest just from the game. One was even a perfect cleat where he had been stepped on since it hadn't been enough for the other players to just trip him, they had to step on him too. Damon wriggled into a clean shirt in his bedroom and found both his father and brother in his room when he pulled his head through. Stefan was also in his pajamas and he perched on Damon's bed as their father handed Damon a tylenol and a glass of water. He glared at him until his son took the medicine, then gently pushed him into the bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. To his chagrin, Stefan had also wormed his way under the covers, and while the bed was probably big enough for four people, Damon was feeling suffocated by his family's attention since he had been hurt. He was too tired to protest, though, as Giuseppe tucked both his sons in for the night. Damon was sleeping obliviously before the man had even turned out the light, but before he did, he looked back at his children. The younger, brown haired one was curled up next to the battered form of his dark haired brother. They both looked incredibly young to Giuseppe. When had they grown up so fast?

…

It was two in the morning. Giuseppe was almost halfway through a bottle of bourbon when he put the alcohol away and made his way up the stairs. He found himself walking to the room where his sons slept and looked inside. They were both out cold. He crept to the bed and sat down slowly on the side closer to Damon, taking a moment to look at him. He looked so young and peaceful, his features were fine and delicate in the strange shadows the night cast. The dark hair clashed with the white gauze at his head, his long lashes were lying against his pale, high cheeks, and his mouth was slightly open, so innocent. Even drunk, Giuseppe was careful not to wake him as he started stroking the soft, fine dark hairs. This was not an unusual scene. Giuseppe stole into both of his sons' rooms when they were sleeping maybe as often as once a week. Usually he just sat on their beds and watched them like a sentinel. Sometimes he petted their hair, or cried. Damon was the one that usually made hime cry. He looked just like their mother. It was like a punch to his gut every time he looked at the elder son and saw her instead.

"I promised her I'd take care of you guys. I guess I'm not doing such a great job, huh?" A tear trailed from his eye, he was looking at the handprint that he could see clearly even in the dark. He was still stroking Damon's hair. "I used to do this when you were a baby. You'd let me do this for hours." he whispered. The man took a shaking breath and wiped his eyes. He leaned forward carefully, kissed his sleeping son's dark head, and walked out of the room without looking back. If he had, he would have seen Stefan's piercing green eyes, wide and staring, who had silently witnessed the entire exchange.

…

 **So, I've noticed my plot line has somewhat escaped me. Please stand by while I salvage what is left of it for next time! I know the change in Damon's father from abusive to remorseful was so sudden it probably gave you guys whiplash. Sorry. Hopefully the previous chapter helped with that? I swear to be more consistent with these characters (that I do not own, by the way) in the future.**


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